Captivation

Scorpios and scorpions are two very different things. One is a zodiac sign; the other is a pesky thing that infests my house in the summer here in Arizona. 

(Once last October I found one in my bed. Freaked TF out. It was not fun.)

I wrote Captivation the morning of January 30, 2018. It's my first poem of the year, and the responses I've gotten from the handful of friends I've shown it to led me to want to publish it here on my blog. But before I published this poem, I needed to post the other stuff I had written before it that I wanted to post but wasn't ready to share until now.

So here it is.

Captivation

I can't put it into enough words
How I actually feel about you
You mean more than I myself
Can even understand

I can only hope that you
Can feel it through the way
My hands hold yours and
The look on my face

But no, in truth, even that's...
Not enough. It's almost nothing.
There's so much more I'm afraid
To release - this something.

Unlike you, I don't play with insects,
Let alone scorpions
This is the first time and I wish I knew
How to get close to you

I've hated scorpions - don't want them
In my house, in my room, on my bed,
But you're all the exceptions
You're different

You captivate me
But I know
It's dangerous to approach
To get close

But where is my common sense?
It's not every day I play with scorpions
Why do I keep approaching
Trying to win your trust, your love?

You raise your tail
Ready to sting
And I know I need to go
Slower

I wonder if it's perseverance
Or how far I've come
In this dangerous dance with you
That doesn't let me give up

You've stung me before
It wasn't fatal, but sometimes excruciating
But I back off for a while
And keep coming back

There's something captivating about you
A magnet, a spark, and something dark
I can't stop thinking about you
Not even for a day

I can only hope that these feelings
Are seen, felt, sensed, understood
So I may one day play with you
Without fear of getting hurt

For those who didn't get the Scorpio-scorpion play, go read up a bit on the Scorpio zodiac sign. It's molded on - you guessed it - scorpions.

Leave your thoughts in the comments! I'd be pleased to read your comments!

This is it for now - I don't have any more poems or short stories in storage to share with you guys, so until inspiration strikes again, keep well!

Reception Night

This is a short story set in the future. I wrote it on December 9, 2017. 

It's about a girl who attends the reception of her old classmate, the one with whom her love was unrequited. 

There may be some confusion in the middle because there's a flashback to the night she got the wedding invitation. Just a fair warning so that you don't get confused. 

RECEPTION NIGHT:

She sat on the outskirts, near the back of the hall, with a melancholic smile as the crowd slowly dwindled.
She sipped on her glass of champagne. She never favored alcoholic beverages, but tonight she was breaking all her rules. Well, she may have already broken them once before.
Her table was empty, save for herself and her purse - and a present. Atop the beautifully wrapped package, complete with a bow on top, was something even more important: a letter. Two letters, actually, contained in the same envelope. One for the bride, and one for the groom, of course.
From her seat, quite a distance from the dais, she watched him. The last she saw him in person was years ago. It was a miraculous, bittersweet moment when she received news of and an invitation to his wedding. Perhaps it was a show of courtesy on his part, to invite all his former classmates and not leave her out. Perhaps he knew she would find out soon enough, and would find a way to show up.
Perhaps, though, it was a show of mercy, by God's grace, for him to allow her to see him once before he's gone for good.
But that was the first time she broke all her rules and found solace with her wine glass in a corner of a pub. The girl who accompanied her friends on countless nights out, and stayed sober to look after her friends while they got wasted, needed to drown herself in the same alcohol she so strongly decried, and needed someone else to stay sober in her place.
It was then that she had decided to write.
A letter for each, short and sweet. Nothing anywhere near as long as the first letter she wrote out in a word document.
To him, she wrote she wished him happiness. She wrote she wished him love, success, and a sweet married life.
To her, she wrote a plea to take care of him, properly, and to love him and be patient with him. She wrote, words oozing with her love for him she wished the bride would shower on him in her place.
And tonight was the night she was to give those letters and the thoughtfully selected present she bought during her work and travels abroad in Japan.
She didn't know how she might react when went up to congratulate the couple whose lives will be joined together early the next morning. She didn't know if she'd smile or cry or be an awkward mix of both.
She took a deep breath and stood up.
She didn't know why she bothered to dress up tonight. But her hair was done, her makeup was flawless, her eyeliner on-point, perfect accessories, her dress accentuated her curves and her diets and workouts evident in her small proportions. As she made one high-heeled step at a time closer to the front of the hall, she wondered if perhaps in some dark corner of her mind she hoped - she hoped perhaps seeing her dolled-up, in person, after all those years, he would think twice, and perhaps she would linger in his thoughts for a while.
When she reached the front and climbed on to the dais, she smiled and congratulated the couple. A small corner of her heart twisted in pain as she glanced at him, searching for some hint of what he might have been thinking at the time. Till the end, she could never read him. Not even a little bit.
She snapped a photo - she made sure to give her best smile - and handed the couple their gift and letters. Congratulating them once more, she stole a final glance at him, and his beautiful eyes, before walking off the dais and taking her leave.
She wasn't hungry tonight. But she knew at last that he was finally gone for good. Her heart knew it, her soul knew it, and perhaps that is why it was a little more difficult to leave at last, biting back tears that threatened to ruin her eye makeup.
But she wished him happiness, from the bottom of her heart. She wished him the best and hoped his life is as happy with his bride as she had dreamed hers would be with him.
Perhaps now she could finally move on.

Never Enough

A break from the love poetry that I've written, but still another window into my life - my college life.

I wrote this poem on April 13, 2017. It shows the struggles with self-esteem, self-confidence, not feeling adequate enough, monetary issues at home, and a touch of - I daresay - jealousy.

NEVER ENOUGH

I admire those who achieve
Be it scholarships or higher GPAs
Or jobs or trips to other places
Or award-winning essays.

I've spent a great deal of my life
Aiming for the top
Only to be stopped each time
Because I was never enough.
My grades just above average,
My talents nothing special,
My efforts never enough,
And my luck forever dwindled.

I admire the overachievers -
Not envy or hatred, no -
Because had I found their secret path
I would've taken it to where they go.

They're out there doing things
That pay off in the end
While I sit here, each thing that I do
Amounting to nothing, and
While they're out there earning
Scholarships and grants,
I sit here worrying how I'll pay
For the semester around the bend.

I search for scholarships that aren't
Reserved for those disabled,
Or those from minority groups -
Or others with such labels.
I'm not a first gen student, no,
Nor do I qualify as an immigrant.
I haven't survived deadly diseases
And am not a STEM major.

I'm the general class, the middle class,
The class the least supported.
My situation was simply deemed
"Because of your parents' choices."
But is it a choice for my parents
To take care of my old grandmother?
So is it a choice that my parents must
Run two households together?

I admire the people who get awards
And achieve recognition.
I've yearned for it and worked for it
But resulting in a failed missions.

I'll always be right where I stand
Just above the line,
But never enough to be someone
Worth being recognized.


So it's been a long time since I wrote this. But I've found out that I can actually qualify as a "first generation" student since I'm the first in my family to go to college in the US. However, I have found ways to pay my college semester fees by working part-time jobs and getting paid internships. I've given up on applying for scholarships for paying my college tuition - but I want to save up money or get a scholarship to summer study abroad trip. I really want to go to Japan, honestly. I'm in my third consecutive semester of studying Japanese - at this point, Japan is not a want; it's a NEED! Someday, somehow... I have to go. Hope for the best! 

Meanwhile, I feel like I'm doing well enough in college in terms of learning new things and achieving, but it's still not enough. I still don't feel adequate enough, great enough, to call myself an honors student. But I'm going to keep working at it. Like they say, SHOOT FOR THE MOON - SO YOU'LL AT LEAST LAND AMONG THE STARS!

What Lovesick Fools Think

I wrote this poem way back in March 2017. I guess you could say that for a while I lost my inspiration to write poetry. I know I haven't posted since last year and it's been ages - but I've got a couple pieces to share with you all! 

Each poem I write is a window into my life, or my soul, or both. Remember that as you read this. 

What Lovesick Fools Think

You were special to me.
You had my heart.
You were different to me.
We shouldn't be apart.
Why do you want this?
That's all I ask.
Why can't you see me?
Is loving me such a task?
The day before Lover's Day,
You blocked me on WhatsApp.
I was shaking, I was crying -
But you wouldn't care about that.
A month went by
I didn't speak to you
Then I was shocked to discover
You blocked me on Facebook too.
It's strange. Now I have
A bittersweet ache inside
A longing to see you
On my social media sites.
It's strange as I combat
Loving you and moving on
And it's scary, honestly,
That suddenly you are gone.
Poof! You disappeared!
With a single move
You blocked me and now
I'm stuck missing you.
But I'm tired, my love.
I'm tired at last
Of you hurting me purposely
And me forgiving you too fast.
All I ever did was love you.
Not hate you, not neglect you,
Neither hurt you nor betray you.
Was it wrong to love you?
I look up at the stars tonight
And wonder if you are looking too.
But I already know the answer to that.
Only lovesick fools look at stars and think of you

My favorite lines in this entire poem are the last four. I look up at the stars and wonder if you're looking at them too - but only lovesick fools look at stars... and think of you.

*Side note: the my love is a substitute for a name.